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year 5, quarter 3
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[attr="class","mercybod"]Their dreams would be restless indeed as visions of destruction, and the God of Discord hovering over what they all should know as the city of Torensten would flood their minds. Even in a dream, his frightening power could be felt, but only a select few would have the want as well as the willpower to accept it. Visions of the surrounding world and it's inhabitants would soon fade away as a pure, white space would surround them, white clouds overhead under a bright sky, the light of a thousand suns pouring over them, but without harming their eyes. It would be in the middle of the white space that they would notice a woman, hands clasped over her chest as her head was tilted forward, a loot of concentration on her face. She could only truly reach a few, but she prayed her influence would span out and give all of her Warriors this message.
Heed my call, Warriors... Her voice called out from everywhere, it seemed as her eyes would opened, falling on those who had arrived. Images of the destruction caused by Chaos began to hover on the distant skies, voices crying out in pain, in prayer, and in fear. Her sad eyes would move across the open area as he hands would slowly drop to her sides.
I am sure... you all realize that this is wrong. Especially you."
She would, of course, be speaking to the Warrior of Light, a presence she could feel the instant she had arrived in this world and made her sanctuary. She felt the others, but the harmony in their hearts had either weakened, or they had somehow... ignored her call. It bothered her, but she was happy to know that the ones that were here were indeed alive and well. Her eyes fell on the Warrior as she awaited a response from him, as well as the others.
With a shudder and a gasp, the Warrior of Light drew in a panicked breath.
Surrounding him, enveloping him were nothing but the sounds of a still forest in the dead of night. Leaves rustled in the barely-there wind, creatures of the night scurried in the undergrowth. The Knight was sitting in the cool grass, pressed against the base of a tree, the gnarled bark barely digging into the exposed, pale flesh of his forehead. His light blue eyes scanned the landscape a moment, wide with anxiety, before turning skyward to the light of the waning moon.
His heart was beating all too quickly in his chest, and his breaths came rapidly, but unsatisfying.
He’d nearly fallen asleep.
The Warrior gripped his familiar blade in his hands, swallowing an anxious lump in his throat. He’d only managed to travel a few slow miles from the Temple in the day previous, having mulled over his meeting with the Mage, Kuja. Night was quick to fall, and with it came exhaustion and the body’s desire to rest. While the nameless man had been easily convinced to stop in his tracks for the night, for the sake of his reflexes, he had not been so easily swayed by sleep.
No, sleep had become a dark tempress. She promised him a good rest, whispered that he’d feel rejuvenated upon waking. Instead, each time he’d closed his eyes since the destruction of Torensten, he’d been thrown into the pit of hell, into a nightmare where he was never done fighting, never stopped swinging his sword, and he always, always failed. Each time sleep wrapped her tempting tendrils around his mind, he was ravaged, beaten, slain; forced to watch innocent people be gutted before him, their familiar screams echoing in his ears, asking why he couldn’t have been faster, why they had to die, why couldn’t they have been saved.
That they were never to live again.
And so, the battle against sleep had begun. Under his eyes were the scars of his fight; dark circles that spoke of many intentionally restless nights. Around him, heavy and warm, was the Cloak of Torensten, given to him as a gift from the city for saving them from their destruction. He wore it as a grim reminder, as a punishment. So that, everywhere he may roam, people could call him out on the very atrocities that ravaged his mind every time he surrendered to sleep. That he would never forget what had happened, who his enemy was, and what he needed to avenge. As far as the nameless knight was concerned, the cloak was sewn with the innocent lives that were lost that day -- forever pinned to his shoulders.
Finally, his heartbeat began to slow once more. The adrenaline in his system was quickly drained, already used up in that one, short burst. He blinked, and found his eyes fluttering, struggling to stay open. His heart slowed and slowed, down to a resting beat, and the Warrior grunted, shifting against the tree, chanting a familiar mantra in his mind.
Do not slip away. Do not slip away. Do not slip away.
Despite all of his physical shuffling, despite the chanting in his mind, the Knight found his breaths slowing and each blink of his eyes elongated and warmly pleasant. He tried to shrug it away. He tried to cling to consciousness. Yet, it slipped through his fingers like smoke, and he found himself falling, falling, falling.
Screams filled his ears. Fire licked at his body, scorched his skin. The overwhelming might of Chaos pressed against his body, threatening to suffocate him. Those silken words were purred in his ears by the powerful, booming voice, ”The rules of the cycles do not apply here.”
As the Warrior reached for his sword, and he thought to cry out and swing against this never-ending nightmare, he found himself pausing. Stopping.
The fire, the red sky, Chaos … All of it was fading. Fading to light.
When his iron clad feet touched the ground once more, it was on a familiar, bright surface.
The nameless Knight frowned. Around him was not the peace of a sleeping forest, nor was it the destruction of Torensten. No, it was a familiar warmth of a bright light, shining down on his scarred armor, illuminating all within its reach. The Warrior placed his sword back at his side, his brows furrowed. This warmth, this serenity, it teased at his heart and his mind, willing him to turn around and embrace what he knew would follow.
He knew that she was there, staring at his back.
The Warrior purposefully stayed his ground. He faced forward, out into the bright nothingness. In his mind, thoughts and feelings turned over in confusing waves - again and again.
His feelings for this Goddess were not what they once were.
The nameless man tapped his fingers against the hilt of his sword. Had this encounter happened many moons ago, before his adventures on Cornelia, the Warrior would have turned and quickly dropped to his knee in a bow. He would have stared at the Goddess of Harmony with innocent wonder and fierce loyalty in his stoic eyes. He would have pledged his heart and soul to her, he would have sworn his life to her, his sword would cut down the agents of Chaos in her name. He would have spread light with every step, not for his own sake, but for hers.
However, that was long ago. Since then, the Warrior had become a free man -- no longer a slave to the cycles of never-ending destruction and war. He’d made friends that didn’t perish in front of him day after day. He’d saved souls that were once considered lost. He’d begun to carve his own path through life; Life! He had his own life to live, and every choice that he made was his own choice. No longer was he influenced by the will of a Goddess. No longer was he a slave to the cycles.
It’s not that he had come to dislike Cosmos. After all, she had been as much a slave to it all as he had been, if Chaos’ words were to be trusted. They were all a part of that game.
No, it’s that seeing her would put the shackles back on his wrists and ankles and yank away that freedom he once had.
Finally, the Warrior of Light turned to face Cosmos. She was as beautifully radiant as she’d always been. Even though his memories of that world were nearly faded beyond belief, he would never forget her face. The warmth of her light beckoned to him, and he steeled himself from moving closer, from bowing down. Instead he stood frozen, impassive, watching her with his stoic, tired eyes. Of course she had easily summoned him. Of course his body had so willingly come.
Of course, he was a fool for believing that he was finally free to become his own person.
Wrong. It was a far cry from the word he would have preferred her to use. It was madness. It was absurd, demented. Perverse. Wrong didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the awful atrocities that were sure to come of his meeting with Chaos, and now, his meeting with Cosmos. The Warrior grit his teeth together, and forced himself to keep his tongue from lashing out in an unholy anger that had been bubbling inside of his chest for a month.
Instead, he merely inclined his head to Cosmos in agreement. It was the closest he could bear to come in acknowledging her, for the time being.
“Of course.” You’ve no idea.
The Warrior could feel the presence of others in the area. He turned his head to look at them, searching desperately for a familiar face that he could identify with. Any reason to not look directly at the Goddess of Harmony any longer.
This meeting. Whatever would come of it. The nameless Knight had long since decided that he swung his sword in the name of justice and the light, but that it was his own, now. It was his forgotten name, his light, his moral code.
The Warrior of Light would not let that be taken away from him once more. Not by Chaos, not by Cosmos, and most certainly not by whatever was occurring on this strange world to have placed him back in the middle of such a conflict.
"Heed my call, Warriors..." These words echoed into Eillien's mind. Almost as a whisper faint as Hydalen's words continued to echo within her mind. As the final vision she remembered of Hydalen leaving her view and telling her to be as a shining beacon in the lands of Eorzea and beyond. Now that she was within the beyond she had attempted to do as she should with the power of the mother crystal and the Echo within herself. Her own inner light was not as great as one other being she had felt upon the lands. This was one she had heard spoken about in her travel to Torenstein. A man bathed in Light, using the Light of the crystals as his shield and sword. This was the same story she had been told about the Adventurers five years before her time. The ones who had given everything to protect her home from the Garlean's and the fall of Dalamund and Bahamut's wrath.
Despite the failure to stop Dalamund and the destruction wrote by Bahamut the Warriors of Light as they had been called where there and had accomplished what it was that they had been tasked with. They had stopped the realm itself from being conquered by a force that would of brought many to their knees and been placed under the yoke of slavery. Yet as Eillien opened her eyes she found herself floating in front of a feminine figure who glowed with the same simple light that she had felt coming from Hydalen herself. Glancing to her left she looked at the man who stood there.
Here stood a woman who had followed her own path and stained her own hands with the blood of innocents and guilty parties equally. Yet here she stood once more before a being that she could of guessed was this worlds embodiment of her mother crystal. Raising a hand to her chest she felt the connection still remaining within herself to Hydalen herself not to this Cosmos. "Many speak about what is right and what is true. I know that many have fought and died believing their path was the right one even if that path was the one that led them down the path without the Mother Crystals Light... So why is it that I the Warrior of Hydalen have been summoned here?"
Crossing her arms in front of her she turned her gaze back to the Male Knight to her right and then back toward Cosmos.
Final Fantasy V
23
YEARS
Trans Male
Single
Pansexual
245 POSTS
Fin
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
The city of Provo didn't have much to offer a pirate. It was cleanly laid out, lined with lamps to spotlight any ne'ever-do-wells, and there wasn't a single body of water in the place worthy of a true sea-faring man. No, Torensten was the place to be with its twisting alleys, dank bars, and streets that smelled perpetually of mud and fish. If Faris had been given the choice, he would have stayed in Torensten drinking, gambling, and stealing for as long as this fever-induced nightmare lasted. But of course, he hadn't been given the choice.
No, his time as a free man had ended the moment the skies had clouded over in red. Now his life belonged to Chaos.
"So you say you saw it? The 'monster of Torensten?' And that's why they gave you that?"A skinny man in glasses and a ragged button-down shirt gestured towards the cloak around Faris' shoulders. Faris gave a shrug in reply.
"Aye, I saw it. I battled it, if you were listening. Helped drive it away with my spear -- not that it did any good. The beast fled before we could finish it off."
"You say it ran away?" The man gave him a skeptical look. Faris scowled and took a quick shot of whiskey. He swallowed almost before it could sear his throat.
"When we were about to send it back to the gates of Hell! The spineless curr. I'll end it myself if I have to. I'll scour the ends of the universe for its yellow hide or I'll die trying." Faris let the shot glass fall back to the counter and gave the man a hard look. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"Ah..." The man blinked nervously. Faris could look damned intimidating when he wanted to -- like he'd killed a thousand men and monsters combined. That impression was not entirely wrong.
"Ah..." The man tried again, "Well it's just hard to believe."
Faris let out a long, loud laugh. "Aye, you wouldn't be the only one, lad. It's a mad tale, isn't it?" When the man said nothing, Faris turned to the rest of the bar. In all truth, it wasn't quite his kind of place -- far too clean with too many straight-cut edges -- but after a few nights wandering their nearby "haunted forest" with nothing to show for it but a few hallucinations and some monster-blood beneath his nails, Faris hadn't felt like spending the night sober. The whiskey stirred in his head as he cried out, "And what of you louts? Seen any demons lately? Yellow skin? Red eyes? Face like the depths of hell?"
The bar went quiet. Dozens of bleary eyes peered back at him. Someone whispered that they should call security. Another whisper suggested that he was out of his mind.
Faris' head pounded. "Of course not! No one's seen it. If you'd seen it, you'd be dead." Faris pushed himself up from the bar stool and waited a moment for the room to stabilize. "You see this?" He held out the blue-lined cloak he'd thrown over his tunic. "This's the cloak of a hero! Zakidum or whatever his name was. They gave it to me for facing that fiend! I've seen what it can do!"
The man with the glasses stared at him. "Why don't you sit down-?"
"Ha!" Faris threw back his head and laughed again. "A warrior of light can take care of himself, lad! I'll be leaving anyway." All eyes were on him as he staggered away. The bartender called that he still owed money for the drinks.
"I still can't get a few free drinks for saving the world? Fine, but I'm letting you off easier than the last dim-headed lout who thought to-,"
'Heed my call, Warriors.'
"Eh?" Faris froze at the words. The voice was a woman's -- calm and sweet. He frowned and glanced about the room, but couldn't find anyone who fit that description. "Did you hear that?"
All around him came muttering. No one had heard.
"I could've sworn-"
"Those drinks. You need to pay for them."
"Fine, fine, I'm-!"
All at once, a light erupted from his chest. The bar was filled with gasps, but Faris stood frozen as it engulfed him. The crystals had reacted -- not just one, but all of them at once. They enveloped them with their light, washing over him with their usual warmth, and all Faris could think was that he hoped he didn't accidentally arm himself in the middle of a crowded bar.
'Heed my call, Warriors.'
The voice echoed again, but this time he didn't hear it so much as he felt it. The voice came from deep inside him, warm as the light that had swallowed him whole. 'Heed my call.'
'The crystal?' Faris thought, 'Is that you?'
The ground fell away beneath him. He no longer felt the moisture of drunken breaths. He no longer smelled the bitter-sweet tang of musty alcohol. There was only the light, and in that light, he saw a woman.
"Who are...?" Faris started, but the woman was quickly overtaken by another sight. Water-eroded houses on river-stilts. A sky clouded over with red lightning. Then came a snarling mouth, horned feet, and eyes like hell-fire. The beast hurtled from the sky and bellowed out over the frightened faces of its victims.
Chaos.
Faris felt a familiar anger rise up hot in his chest, but it felt dull somehow -- tired. The light had faded, but still coursed through his crystals in peaceful throbs. He let out a slow breath, and the woman appeared again. Her white dress flowed around her ankles. Its gold embellishments glinted in the ethereal light, reaching like a necklace up to her collar-bone. A tiara glittered from its nest in her hair.
"I am sure... you all realize that this is wrong. Especially you." Her eyes swept past Faris to someone he couldn't see.
"Of course," a voice answered beside him. It was a familiar voice -- calm and restrained. Faris could have sworn he'd heard it before, but his vision was still clouded and his head was too hazy to think. He blinked hard and tried to clear the fog from his eyes. It didn't help much.
"Many speak about what is right and what is true." Another voice came from Faris' other side. It was a woman, and once again, Faris couldn't shake the feeling he'd heard her somewhere before. She rambled on about philosophy and paths and "Mother Light," and the whole time, Faris could only squint through the light and try to make sense of it all.
The more time he spent thinking, the less he understood.
"Uh. Right. What they said." Faris rubbed at his forehead and then took his fingers to the corners of his eyes. Slowly, the space around him took form, but none of it made sense. He saw a clouded sky, a light which seemed to come from everywhere, and beneath him...white. Pure white like he was standing over an eternity of well-lit nothing. He bit his lip and racked his brain for an answer.
'I'm drunk,' he thought, 'Drunk and passed out. Seeing things, probably. Or maybe I died.'
That made sense. This looked like the kind of thing he'd see if he'd died. It could do with some more water, though.
Faris rubbed at his eyes again. "If you're talking about that devil, I'll be fighting it until it's last breath. Just say the word, lass, and you have my spear. And sword. And whatever else you need, too." His head was starting to clear, and he caught more of the figures at his sides. The woman was shrouded in black metal -- all sharp edges and ornate curves. From behind, he caught a knot of turquoise hair, almost like...
"Eillien?"Faris felt his eyes widen. "That lass from the bar in Torensten? The fierce-some dragoon?" Faris laughed before he could stop himself. "Now why'd you be here? Unless it's all in my head, of course, but that's a different matter all together! Were you dragged here by the crystals too?"
Before the woman could answer, Faris caught movement to his right. The familiar male voice gave way to a familiar figure. He was dressed all in white armor with thick silver-gray hair and a shield in his hand. But what really caught Faris' attention were the two, elongated horns sticking out of his helmet. Faris stared at him in shock.
"And you're that knight! The other warrior of Light from Torensten! The one who drove the beast away with his holy sword!" Faris laughed again, louder this time. "Now I know I'm dreaming! Meeting you here? What are the odds?" Faris waved a hand at the sky. "Not to mention the light and the -- well -- whatever this is."
Still, he couldn't stop himself from grinning. It wasn't right to say that the knight was the only reason they'd all survived Torensten, but it wasn't wrong either. "Well, dream or no dream, I'm happy to see you, lad. I'd been meaning to find you after the fires died down, but I lost you in the crowd. What'd you do with that pink-haired swordswoman? And have you had any luck finding the fiend?" Faris crossed his arms haughtily and suppressed a scowl. "I haven't had any luck myself. The people here are all a bunch of dullards, if you ask me. And they charge too much for a pint of beer."
Had he underestimated the length of his journey, or the difficulty of the dangers that roamed the land? Maybe it was both as the monk reached into his vest once more, pulling out a vial of Potion, trembling within his fingers as he looked at it. “Last one,” he told himself as he went to pull the cork off to down the liquid, letting its chemical ease his pains and close his wounds. However, his unstable hands from all his injuries made his fingers slip, hardly having enough of a reaction to save it before it fell onto the ground, glass shattering and the Potion spilling across the floor. A heavy sigh left the monk as he had to give up on it and pray he could meet someone willing to spare another. He had the gil to compensate, after all.
The trek across the land was starting to feel somewhat familiar from following routes, but the monster impact had still felt foreign. These were beasts of tales, but somehow, his mind would have flashes of those who had fought them for lifetimes, giving him insight of the beasts he had never seen before, and yet, when he would see a new beast, he would actually anticipate the freeze-up to get nothing but a set of claws to his chest. Apparently, not everything in this world seemed to of reflected these dream memories.
This may have been why the monk was so battered. So many free shots onto a human whose only form of defense was a gi certainly punished him, but time and again, he had proven himself to be the victor, though he did have to consume a number of Potions, leading up to this predicament. Gi torn up and burned in areas, body riddled with bruises, scratches, and bite marks, and blood coming his forehead as he tried to push himself on his last legs forward. All he needed was some small amount of help.
A building was ahead of him. He had no idea if the place was abandoned or not, but it meant two things: people he could bargain with at best, a place to scavenge and rest in the middle, and full of monsters at worse. Still, it was not like monsters lived in cottages like humans, so if they were in there, they would be scavenging themselves. Either way, the odds to investigate seemed to of been the best option.
The monk found his knees to buckle when he got closer to the entryway of the building, finding his spare energy nearly depleted. Luckily, he seemed to of found at least some human figures in the near distance. “P-Pardon me,” the monk coughed out as he pushed himself towards the temple wall, pulling himself back to his feet. “But, by any chance, do you have some supplies you can-“
He found himself cut off when his stamina finally gave out. With his knees giving out and his vision fading away, the monk collapsed, his face hitting the ground as the sounds around him began to fade out.
When his vision came to, the terrain was much different from before. No longer was he finding a single, large temple in the middle of nowhere, but inside a massive city where citizens were in a massive panic. “What the-“ he muttered before looking up, his eyes catching the image of a massive demon.
A massive spike of a headache ran through his head. It was like when he encountered the monsters from his dreams, but nearly ten times worse. And yet, no information was being forced into his mind. It was familiar, and yet unknown? Could this beast be something from where his dreams would stop?
Everything stopped though, as it was engulfed in a wave of light, now encapsulated in a room of white with four people inside. The one that stood out was the woman in the center, who spoke in an angelic voice, though speaking in odd riddles. The others included two lancers (though it looked like both were female, one was actually male) and…
Allen’s insides felt sick. He was sure he was dead. He did not not know what to expect after someone dies but he was sure a town in desolation was not the heaven he grew up hearing about.
Allen lay sprawled on a rooftop. His left leg dangled of the edge of what seemed to be a burning building. He quickly rose on his feet and rubbed his eyes before he looked around the inferno before him. He had a complete panoramic view of the town in flames. People ran around streets, through fires, and even on top of each other. Almost every other house had been destroyed or was being engulfed by flames. A strong gust of smoke gusted against Allen’s back. He felt a strong heat pulsing through the air behind him.
Allen wished he had not turned and had ran with the people. An enormous Demon who could have easily swatted the town out of existence stood by the mountains roaring as the rage of the flames and the tremble of the earthquakes seem to play as his orchestra of impending apocalypse. The Demon’s horns grew from either sides of its head; just as fearsome as the sharp teeth decorating on the its evil grin. Its four scarlet-stained arms waved about, sending flames, destruction and panic with every flourish. Allen felt the terror, the fear, and the darkness settling around him like a giant blanket slowly covering him. Allen froze in place, his body did not move as if it had accepted its death sentence from the giant demon. Time stood still, and an serene echo beckoned to him.
“Heed my call, Warriors” the voice said.
With that, Allen’s will had managed to move himself. He looked around him to find the source of the voice. Just as the skies fell from the demon’s roar, a bright light had covered everything around him and Allen had woken up from the nightmare.
At least this place is better, Allen thought to himself. He looked around him. He seemed to be in a temple standing right behind four other individuals facing what seemed to be a beautiful floating ghost. His eyes were drawn to her. Her eyes were elegantly closed as if she was sleeping and at the same time as if she was concentrating. Her blond hair and dress seemed to have its own air constantly flowing through it. The woman had radiated of warmth and hope and pure determination. One warrior was very notable among the other and stood closest to the woman. His armour glinted as purely as the temple around them.
“I am sure... you all realise that this is wrong. Especially you." she had said to them. However, the last statement was clearly meant for the Warrior in white.
It was her; the echo Allen heard in the nightmare he just had. Who was she and where was he. Questions filled his head faster than he could try to answer. Maybe, the others could enlighten him about all of this. Or maybe, it was just his stupid mind preparing him for a worse nightmare.
[attr="class","mercybod"]"I know how you feel. How you all must feel. This land is strange, alien to even myself... The pull of Discord isn't even present here... In this world, the 'Gods' of the Cycles are no longer bound by their rules... and neither are you." her eyes locked on the back of the Warrior of Light's helmet. "If you die here... your soul will return to whatever Aether drives this planet slowly to it's death." she looked at the others, who were more clear, despite multiple other shapes filling the void, looking confused.
A young man with two swords, an adolescent with a tail, and a spikey haired blonde were barely in focus, not too far from the Warrior. However, the spikey blonde was fading in and out, clearly not entirely true to his own heart.
"This land... it offers none of the protections of your homes. Your friends may appear, but they may not be... entirely who they were to you in the times of old, on your lands. The Cycles are over... and there is a new force at work... once who is taking my power, and the power of Discord, and using it against us."
She walked among the ones who were truly present, looking at each of them. "You are all... carrying a heavier burden than you know. Even you, Warrior, who has faithfully pushed yourself to your limits in defense of your home... The only truth I know is that your homes... all of them, have been temporally shattered. Whatever force this is... is powerful enough to transcend space and time..." she closed her eyes before looking to the Warrior of Light, and to the others. "There was nothing I could do. You have... my deepest apologies." she took a breath and looked to the north, a shadow of a mountain looming into view.
"Deep in these mountains lies a stronghold that Chaos himself is likely using. But, it has become evident that he is not playing the part of the enemy..." A large gate carved into a rockface appeared, her eyes now fixated on the gate. "... The key to everyone's salvation may be in this gate. I cannot see anything within it, and... any attempt physically harms me." she closed her eyes.
"... I am afraid I must ask the impossible of you, to do the bidding of a Goddess who is no longer a Goddess... Because if nothing is done, if that gate isn't opened... this world and everyone on it will die."
WOL IS NO LONGER A MINDLESS DRONE FOR YOU COSMOS. EXPLAIN MORE.
Her presence at his back was akin to that of an open flame. It was warm, it was reassuring. It promised safety and serenity in the darkest of nights, promising that he was never truly alone, no matter how difficult things became, or how impossible they seemed.
The feeling made his stomach knot, uncomfortably. He could not bear to look at her. He could not bear to feel the slap of betrayal he knew would come if he turned his eyes to her.
Instead, the Warrior remained still, remained close to Cosmos, but not too terribly close. His hand continue to rest lightly on the hilt of his holy blade, and his posture stiff. He knew, if he kept his gaze forward, what he would see next.
And, slowly, they appeared in flashes of light. Warriors of light.
The nameless knight watched with little expression as the first person took form. It was a person he was unfamiliar with, a female knight by the looks of her, equipped with a lance. Her expression hardly faltered, as if being summoned by a mysterious being to a strange place was nothing out of the ordinary. Subconsciously, the Warrior couldn’t help but wonder if she was a former pawn of Cosmos in an earlier cycle, or if, perhaps, the young woman considered this sort of summoning typical.
He continued to silently study her as she spoke. Her form was strong, powerful, and spoke of much experienced strife and battle. Her eyes spoke volumes more than the Warrior would ever bother to read into, unless she insisted on becoming a companion in this journey. However, her spirit shined brightly, whether or not she truly realized it, in the presence of Cosmos.
A warrior of Hydalen. I’ve not heard the name before.
Close to the female lancer, another figure had appeared from the light. Despite the unholy brightness about the room, the knight’s keen blue eyes were quick to take in each detail about the dazed newcomer.
Not that he needed to. The familiar, purple-ish hair and cloak exactly like his own were two immediately dead giveaways.
However, he did not immediately address the young man. It was Sir Faris, who had so valiantly helped to fight off Chaos in Torensten. Faris, who had distracted the pink-haired reaper long enough for the Warrior to rejoin the fight. He owed Sir Faris so very much. It took the captain a few moments to regain his composure, and as soon as he had, he immediately addressed the female lancer next to him. Eillien, Faris called her. So, they too knew each other. Perhaps Faris had traveled this strange land much longer than the Warrior himself.
Though he had been resisting the feeling, the Warrior felt his heart warm as Faris addressed him next. A small smile managed to break through his neutral facade, as that familiar rush of even the smallest of bonds spread through his heart. He nodded his head in acknowledgement to the young Captain, “I am happy to see you as well, Captain Faris. Though, you can rest assured, this is no dream.”
The knight felt his heart constrict as he thought of his attempts to find Chaos once more, yet he tried his hardest to not let the sadness tint the only small smile he could muster.
“I left the pink-haired swordsmen in the forest. I was confident that she would be no threat to those people, after all that had transpired. I am sure she will find me again, in her own time," his voice flowed over the mysterious, light landscape, powerful, but somber.
“I, too, have had no luck in locating Chaos. He will likely re-appear, when it is most convenient for him.”
That is how you both operate, after all, the Warrior thought to himself, daring to throw a small glance over his shoulder at Cosmos, Summoning pawns when it is most convenient for you. Showing yourselves only when you wish.
Behind the two lancers, the light gave way to another form. The Warrior allowed his gaze to drift, from his fellow warriors, to this new, unknown form. A young man was revealed, wearing loose clothing the Warrior would associate with the monks in and around Cornelia. The fighter’s body was hardened, clearly trained, and the longer the nameless knight’s gazed lingered, the more familiarity crept up his spine. Yet, he was sure, as the young man slowly came out of his daze, that he’d never seen the fighter before. Though, that strange sense of familiarity … It was similar to that he’d felt with the pink-haired reaper that had threatened him.
The blonde man’s eyes widened as his gaze landed on the nameless Warrior, as he even spoke the general title most associated with him. The Warrior stared at him a moment, before slowly shaking his head in a silent apology.
“Apologies, Sir Monk. I’m afraid I do not recognize you.”
Though, my soul calls to you. How do you know me? The Warrior bit back his questions, for now, though he ached for the information. There was still so much of his life that was missing.
Lost in thought, the Warrior nearly missed the arrival of the last soul to this impromptu, unwelcome gathering. Another young man had appeared along with the rest, silent, but his eyes filled with questions. He had clearly seen what the rest of them had -- Chaos’s destruction of Torensten. This poor young man, the Warrior frowned to himself, what atrocities he had to witness for her cause.
Finally, Cosmos opened her mouth to speak. However, the words she spoke, the Warrior already knew as truths. Chaos’s whispers of truths were still fresh in his mind, even in the weeks after their grand battle in Torensten. However, it was likely he would see confusion on the faces of those around him. After all, the Warrior could not recall any of these individuals from the wars of the cycles he had been subjected to.
Not that he could remember much from those times at all. Flickers here and there, really.
In the distance, around them, the shapes of other individuals attempted to take form. However, they never quite became solid. There were some who appeared more clear than others, clearly dazed in confused, as if in a dream. Others flickered in and out entirely -- neither here nor there. Their souls unable to contain any light. The Warrior found himself only mildly interested in their non-appearance.
Cosmos continued to speak. She spoke of a greater evil at work, she spoke of former protections that were no longer. Anyone who had experienced this world for a long enough period would probably know such things to be true.
Yet, the Warrior steeled himself against her words. She would try to draw him into this. Into her fight. He had to resist.
However, as Cosmos began to walk among them and further explain what she knew, the Warrior quickly began to realize that his choices would be limited. Her eyes always lingered to him, and she continued to mention him by name.
Her soft, illuminated face filled with regret. No. No, that is false regret.
Her eyes shone with sincerity. She never truly cared for the world. She never--
Cosmos apologized for being able to defend their homes - and the Warrior felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. His home, his new home was gone? Cornelia was no more? But, what of his remaining friends he had yet to find, what of Princess Sarah, what of all the familiar faces and hearts that had finally accepted the young knight with no name and no past? In his chest spread despair.
And yet, the Goddess of Harmony was apologizing. The Warrior barely held back a scoff and his expression quickly switched from that of despair to incredulous. Had she truly tried to save their worlds? What power did she have? She was trapped in the cycles just as much as her pawns had been, and what had she done there? Lied to them, cycle after cycle, if his memory was correct. She could have revealed so much more than she ever did, but purposefully chose not to.
The Warrior could feel the anger bubbling inside of his spirit once more.
Cosmos gestured to the looming mountain in the background, and revealed a stone gate. The Warrior’s icy eyes took in her information, but as soon as she finished speaking, he could not help but open his mouth. The rush of adrenaline, the feeling of betrayal. It was too much to bear.
“Tell me, Cosmos,” he spoke quietly, but coldly, his icy tone clearly meant only for her, “Please, tell me why I should trust you. After everything that transpired during the cycles, after all that you had hidden from us back then, why should I trust that you speak the truth this time?” The Warrior chest heaved with effort, and his cheeks flushed with an odd anger he thought himself not possible of. His eyes were clearly filled with confusion, with hurt. He was a man who had been stabbed in the back once before, and after living a full life worth living, he found himself easily questioning the goddess that had once held his life in her hands.
Held his life time and time and time again. How many times had she watched him die, only to send him out and watch him fail again?
The Warrior stepped forward, glancing out at his fellow summoned warriors. Fellow summoned pawns in this new game.
He quickly turned his gaze back to Cosmos, and spoke with a strained confidence, “If I am daring to march towards death once more, I will do so of my own free will, and not as your pawn.”
“Tell us what you know of this gate. How do you know this world is doomed if it remains closed? What could it possibly contain?”
Eillien turned as the first of the people drawn by the light arrived beside her after she had spoken up. The voice was familiar and when she turned and the light of their arrival melted away she noticed the purple hair and garb that triggered her own memory. Giving Faris a nod and a quick reply “On Eorzea I am what they call a Warrior of Light and I responded as I felt as if Hydalen called me here just to find this woman here in front of me along with the heavily armored fellow. But simple answer yes I was dragged her by the six crystals I have”
No sooner had she finished returning the question from Faris then she had to shield her eyes as it seemed someone else had arrived and it appeared to be a travelling monk of some type. Looking the man over she jumped to that conclusion because of the travelling gi he wore reminded her of those of the upper tiers of the pugilist guild back in Ul’dah. Though his own surprise seemed to help indicate that even this man had no idea what was going on. This made another as she rubbed her head as well. When he called out for the heavily armored man she assumed that he was being proper toward the man as she would most certainly call him a warrior.
Then once more there was a flash of light as it seemed that another person had been brought in and brought before the woman. Another male but just like the others she could feel the crystal within herself resonate and receive feedback from the others. Turning her attention back to the woman in front of her she listened to her words. Things she had only heard of inside of ballads and tales danced within her mind. As once she heard of a few sailors talking about there being a land of never ending battle directed by gods but that was nothing that she knew about. But as she spoke Eillien ‘s gaze became more serious as it had when they used to speak within the halls of the Scions about the never ending Primal threats and how to stop them. “So a one way suicide mission once again it seems…So to save this world we are to find this gate and find a way to pass it. Sounds like a hassle but it does sound like a quest that would be given to once blessed by the crystals.”
Yet her words in response dropped off when she mentioned an apology to them for their homes. This made her blink out in response as she while attempting to make the best of this realm had not forgotten what it was she was wanting to return to Eorzea for. She had friends and a possible girlfriend waiting back there for herself when she returned but if it was already gone. Shaking her head she would not allow herself to let those thoughts sneak into her mind as such. To her such thoughts could lead to allowing Nidhogg’s influence to chip away more at her mind. Glancing down at the plain sack at her side that contained the Eye.
Her gaze however was torn back up from the Dragon Eye that hung at her side when the Warrior of Light began to speak. His words where filled with a knowing rage like those of the Templar Commander back home in Ishgard. She could feel the very conviction with which he spoke and she nodded in agreement. “While I am used to going into a situation almost completely blind and figuring things out on my own I would like to echo what the gentlemen spoke on. As if this is something that can be the teetering point for this entire world then whatever it is that could be behind it could be benevolent or it could even be the thing that causes the destruction of this world. Just like back home with the Garlena Empire. Appearing in friendship only to try and conquer us the moment they could reach the knife and aim at our back. …”
Her babbling she hoped would not irritate the Warrior but instead show that she despite her earlier enthusiasm was on his side on wanting to know everything that was going on. Her gaze filtered over to the others as if awaiting their responses to this as well.
Allen rubbed his temples and tried to process everything going on around him. The warrior clad in white seems to be familiar with the purple-haired girl who is an acquaintance of the other lady lancer. In addition, the blonde monk recognises the white warrior but the warrior doesn't seem to know him. Combine all these with the wacky nightmare-dream travel, the woman's echoing voice, and their weird costumes, it was definitely a recipe to cave someone's sanity in. Allen was just starting to get convinced that either he had officially lost his own mind or he had died, when the lady in light had mentioned that his home was 'shattered'. What ever did she mean by that?
Allen saw the gate manifest close by. The lady started to mention bizarre terms such as 'Aether', 'Cycles', 'power of Discord', and even 'Chaos'. Chaos... the way is was said vaguely reminded him of the nightmare he had just come from before ending in this tranquil temple that, ironically enough, was starting to drain the tranquil out of him.
Apparently her name was 'Cosmos' as the Warrior had boldy said her name with a painful pang of distrust.
“Please, tell me why I should trust you. After everything that transpired during the cycles, after all that you had hidden from us back then, why should I trust that you speak the truth this time?”
Allen felt a drop of bad blood between Cosmos and the white Warrior. Were they allies before? It sounded as if she had betrayed the warrior but at the same time, her lamenting for them seemed to be the genuine truth. She seemed to truly care for their fates. That was until Allen heard the warrior once again speak to Cosmos.
“If I am daring to march towards death once more, I will do so of my own free will, and not as your pawn.” The Warrior had said. “Tell us what you know of this gate. How do you know this world is doomed if it remains closed? What could it possibly contain?”
"March towards death...A pawn?,"Allen thought to himself. He found his insides climbing up his throat in a very bad way. Now the tranquil was completely gone from his system. "I'm gonna have to die...AGAIN?!"
Allen rubbed his temples harder and it just made the head ache worse. But fate decided his head did not hurt enough and he had to hear words about them going into a 'suicide mission', 'the destruction of this world',...
"...Appearing in friendship only to try and conquer us the moment they could reach the knife and aim at our back. " Allen heard from the tall slender woman with the lance.
Allen forced himself to go into a regulated pattern of inhales and exhales. He hoped this could help him settle down. It was bad enough that the warrior had brought up his personal grudge with the Cosmos, but the other lady had to bring up ideas of their demise.
"Gee, what a jolly bunch these two are..."Allen found himself complaining in his mind. He wished the blonde monk and the purple-haired kid were not as gloomy as these two warriors seemed to be.
